Human Enough
by FrenchieLeigh
Summary: Two desperate daughters search for a cure for their ailing father, finding hope in two exiled princes seeking redemption for their sins. They all soon learn that not all curses can be broken, and everything, even salvation, comes with a price. AU: Fairytale-esque: Okita/OC, Saitou/Tokio
1. Finding a Cure

**Author's Note: **It was once suggested that I write an Okita/Shousha & Saitou/Tokio fic in a fairy tale universe. I gave that thought a thumbs up, but tucked it away. I have _so many_ fics started, I can't possibly do another, right? RIGHT? Well, you all should know me by now. I don't even have excuses anymore.

Well here's what happened. I was minding my own business, making pigs in a blanket and doing some dishes before we left for a Memorial Day picnic at my sister-in-law's house. And then, well, this story sort of, as my fiancee put it, _assembled itself in my brain_. Yep. So, here it is.

Like _Fine Lines_, this is my take on a _really_ popular subject. The fact that it isn't KenKao or BattouKao makes me feel a little better about thinking it into existence.

Everyone still with me? I hope so. I really so appreciate everyone who reads about the tomfoolery that goes on up in my head. :Dd I see you in my stats, even the quiet ones, so, thanks all. :D :D

This is for you, cassowary.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

**I**

_ "_My apologies, your highness, but there is nothing I can do."

Though she tried to appear calm and reserved, Yamata Shousha's mouth betrayed her. At first, it twitched, poker face flickering into a frown, but then it opened, and before she could think better of it, words spilled forth.

"_You_ are wisest man in our land!" she shouted, rising from her seat, "how dare you stand there and tell me there is nothing you can do! Give me your wisdom! Give me your knowledge!"

The old man before her bowed, looking up at her pleadingly. "My princess, I have never seen this before. I can not tell you how to cure it."

She dismissed him with a curse and when she sat down, chest heaving, a large hand came to rest on her own trembling fingers.

"My love," came the gentle voice of a man.

With a sigh, she shook her head and looked to her left where she met the warm, sympathetic gaze of her intended. There he stood, strong and proud, his black hair gleaming in the light and brown eyes glimmering with hope that she couldn't find in herself.

"Oh Kogoro," she breathed, allowing him to kiss the side of her face tenderly, "we'll never find a cure."

Katsura Kogoro, a Duke as his father before him and _his_ father before him, was not a man to give up so easily. Chuckling, he stepped back and offered his hand to her.

"Come. We'll have some supper."

Shousha sent him a doubtful glance, but he smiled reassuringly and through her frustrations, her resolve melted. Checking to see that all of the pins were still keeping her ebon locks in place, lest her maid give her a scolding, she gave him a watery smile and allowed him to lead her down from her throne, and off into the dining room.

Dinner was silent. She hadn't had an appetite in days. He told her that everything would be alright, that amidst the chaos of life, a solution would come forth and they would look fondly on their troubles in ten or twenty years, but Shousha couldn't find it in herself to think that way.

The king was dying. Her father was dying.

He wasn't her father, not by blood. Her real father, the king before him, had been a monster of a man, a tyrant and a burden upon his own kingdom. Together with his wife he had taken out his drunken frustrations on his young daughter, constantly punishing her for the wrongdoings of everyone else from his advisor to the lowly stable boy.

The day she had tossed dirt onto his casket was the first day that Shousha had smiled.

In a world where women did not rule without men, the queen remarried immediately, this time to a man whose love knew no bounds. It was a horrible arrangement, as the queen was very much like her late husband, and did not deserve such a match, but this man, Takagi Kojuro, was the king's half brother, their father's bastard child, and the only male relation left to claim the throne.

He had a daughter of his own, a little whirlwind of a child, with brilliant grey eyes and untamable black curls. Her mother had passed on during childbirth and without a woman's care or proper living conditions (courtesy of the king), she was every bit as wild as her appearance.

She and Shousha became friends immediately.

After Kojuro had risen to power, the kingdom thrived and the castle felt alive. He was a jovial man, finding any reason to celebrate, yet careful with his spending. He raised Shousha as his daughter, protecting her from the physical abuse of her mother, and though his own child, Tokio, was never granted the title of _princess_, no one paid much attention to this. She was royalty in the eyes of everyone, except for the queen, Kanako, who, now married to Kojuro, held very little authority over her.

For fifteen years, life was perfect.

"What did the wise man say?"

Shousha looked up from swirling her peas around, to the face of her step-sister, etched with worry. She knew the answer.

"The same thing that the priests said," Shousha replied glumly, "and the medicine man, and the magic man, and all the other men that have come here."

Tokio let out a frustrated grunt, stabbing her roll with her knife. "Because they're _men_," she huffed, swinging around the impaled bread threateningly. "I bet if we got a medicine _woman_ in here she'd be able to help."

"There _aren't_ any medicine women, Tokio," Shousha reminded her, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms.

No, there weren't. Shousha's true father had banned any woman from practicing any sort of profession that didn't involve becoming a slave to a man in one fashion or another. Kojuro had promptly reversed this decree, but by that time the educated women had died out and whatever females were interested in taking up those positions again did not yet hold the skills that their male teachers possessed.

"There just... there has to be _something,_" Shousha said through grit teeth, trying to keep her tears at bay. "We can't just sit here and watch him _die._"

"We're not going to let him die," Tokio said resolutely. "He's our father. He promised us that he'd be there on both of our wedding days. Yours might be coming up soon, but mine isn't. I'm going to hold him to his promise."

Tokio was significantly stronger than Shousha was. No matter how dire a situation, when Shousha sank down into a puddle of satin and tears, Tokio simply clenched her lace covered fists and punched life in the face.

Katsura sat watching the two women. He had learned long ago not to come between Shousha and her emotions, particularly when she was expressing them. Eventually she would exhaust herself with anger and retire for the night. He never worried about Tokio. He admired her greatly and was thankful that Shousha had her to depend on.

He respected the sadness that weight on their shoulders, but he would willingly admit that he didn't understand it. His parents had been friendly with each other; his mother had certainly been more eager to serve his father than Kanako had ever been Kojuro, but as amiable as they had been with each other, they were courtiers and people with such a title did not have the time to tend to _children_.

So he had grown up living his own life as a child and his parents had lived theirs as adults. When they crossed paths, it was not for a romp in the field or a bedtime story, but to report the status of his schooling, his marks, or to confess that he _had_ spilt ink on his mother's newest gown and that he would rectify the situation immediately.

He became a man and was immediately welcomed into their circle. They both died and he felt a respectful amount of remorse before moving on with his life. That was just how it was.

When the princess fell in love with him, his views became slightly blurred, his confidence in who he was shaken, though he never showed it. When he fell in love with her in return, both rightened themselves, but he found that his new ideals and self assurance were quite different from the indifferent young heir he had been before.

Maybe, just maybe, if he were to have children, he could find time to be with them. To love them.

"I'm going to bed," Shousha said finally, pushing her plate away from her, "tell mother to rot in Hell."

Tokio grinned at this, holding up her knife again. "Shall I send her there myself?"

Katsura sent her warning glance, but Shousha smiled. "Don't you dare, sister. That's my kill."

Stabbing the utensil into the wooden table, Tokio frowned. "Damn your birthright."

Hours passed. Shousha couldn't sleep. She hadn't slept properly all week. There was a stinging fear in the pit of her stomach that if she closed her eyes for too long, her father would slip into death's embrace. She had to stay awake and alert, even though both her mind and body begged for rest.

Spring was ending, pulling Summer in from it's long hibernation and with it, crickets, frogs, and other various animals to serenade those who chose not to let sleep claim them in the late hours of the night.

Slipping out from under her covers, Shousha pulled on a light robe and stole out of her bedroom, hurrying down the hall. There had been no hope for days, but there was one person, one forbidden road that they could travel.

She knocked lightly on Tokio's door, but the light leaking out from under the door gave her sister away.

When Shousha closed the door behind her, Toko turned from her place at the writing desk and gave her a shrug.

"Tokio. I have an idea."

There was an unusual look in Shousha's deep chocolate eyes, Tokio noticed. She always held an air of haughtiness and a spark of mischief, but tonight, she was positively glowing with ambition. Dangerous ambition.

Tokio was intrigued.

"Sit, sit!" she whispered, jumping onto the bed and patting the mattress for her sister to join her. Shousha complied, hitching up the skirt of her pale blue nightdress and crossing her legs in a decidedly unladylike fashion.

"Alright," she breathed. "I know that it's forbidden and I _know_ that father will have our heads once he finds out, but it's the only choice we have."

"What is?" Tokio asked, leaning forward in anticipation, "If there's any chance to save Papa we have to take it!"

"Will you accept the lashings that Kanako will give us both for our disobedience and," she swallowed, "treason."

Tokio's eyes grew wide. "_Treason_? How are we to save father if we have to turn against him in order to do so?"

Shousha held up a pinky finger, her mouth set in a solemn line, but her eyes still danced with excitement, "Will you?"

With a nod, Tokio hooked her pinky onto her sister's.

"_The witch_."

Hands flying to cover her scream, Tokio's eyes flashed with panic and she began to shake her head.

"No. _No."_

_ "Tokio. _We _have_ to."

She knew this. Shousha was right. They would have to turn to black magic. If healing magic couldn't help, if the purest prayer left them with nothing, then what choice did they have but to cling to the very last sliver of hope they had?

Kojuro had forbidden black magic, driving all those who practiced its art from his kingdom. The wicked sorcery had brought death and destruction upon his people and he would not see his land fall apart at the hands of evildoers.

There was, however, one woman, one last witch who had stayed behind. Disguised as an elderly shepherdess, she was available to all those who knew where to find her. Shousha had made a point of acquiring her whereabouts at a very early age.

So, dressed in their plainest clothing, the two daughters of the king stole away in the middle of the night to hunt out the witch.

"Impossible."

Seated before the shepherdess in a rotting barn, Tokio and Shousha told her of their troubles and their desire for her gifts.

"What do you mean, 'impossible'?" Tokio demanded, swatting a bat away from her hair, "you are the only witch left! You evaded my father's hunters! You are the most powerful being in this land."

"What do you want?" Shousha asked, pleading, "any sum of money, any amount of freedom, please ask and you shall receive. Once my father is cured he will exalt you! I swear it!"

But the witch held up her hand, weathered by years of tending to her herd. "It is not impossible because I hold ill will against the man who saw fit to have my head on a pike," she snapped. "It is impossible because this ailment was not caused by dark magic, therefore I cannot reverse it, and it was not caused by nature, therefore I cannot destroy it."

Both girls sat perfectly still.

"What do you mean?" Shousha asked, voice trembling,

"What I mean," she said stiffly, pulling out a shimmering dagger and holding it up in the light of the solitary candle that gave light to the damp darkness of the barn, "is that your father was poisoned."

"Poisoned," echoed Tokio dully. Who would poison the king? He was loved by all.

"That's what I said, girl," replied the witch, throwing the knife across the barn, ending the flight of two bats with a hard _thud_ as the tip of the dagger embedded itself into the wood of a stable.

Shousha watched the two creatures struggle for a few seconds before giving themselves to death.

"Of course," she whispered.

Tokio looked over at her, giving her shoulders a light shake. "Hey, what do you mean?"

Shousha swiveled on the pail she was using for a chair. "Don't you see? Kogoro and I are about to be married. Once he is my husband, he will have a claim on the throne."

Her sister shrugged, "Well yeah, that's how it works. You don't think that _he_ would have poisoned father, do you?"

Surprise and hurt flashed across Shousha's face for a moment before she dismissed the accusation. "Of course not! He would never. _However_, imagine what would happen if father died tonight, and tomorrow mother married again, this time, a young, naive, and impressionable man."

Tokio's mouth fell open. It wasn't an unreasonable thought. Kanako had ruled alongside Shousha's father, Mori because they were both selfish and sadistic people. She had married Kojuro because he held claim to the throne by birth.

But Kojuro had not been so willing to let her bring her diabolical schemes to fruition. After fifteen years, with her daughter ready to marry, she was becoming desperate. Katsura was a man with his own ideals, and a clear and level headed way of thinking. He, too, was gentle and kind and would not bend to her wishes.

If Katsura became rightful heir before she secured her own young king, the kingdom would be lost to her forever.

"Greed destroys the hearts of men," said the witch, "but will overtake the soul of a woman completely."

Now lightheaded, Shousha turned up her palms. "What can we do? Can't you kill my mother?"

But Tokio shook her head. "Shou, we would both be executed for treason."

"I always swore I would end her!" she protested, "even you talk about it."

"There is one thing you can do."

The girls paused.

Taking up her seat across from them, the witch covered her face with a tattered veil and, leaning forward, blew out the candle and lowered her voice.

Hearts pounding, Tokio and Shousha tilted their bodies towards her, praying they would be able to hear her.

"There are two princes far off to the west. If you are willing to sacrifice your very souls to free your father of his death sentence, they may be able to help you."

"There are no princes to the west that we wouldn't already know," Tokio said doubtfully, "We know of every prince within a month's travel."

"Stupid girl," hissed the shepherdess, "you know of these princes. You just don't believe they exist."

Crossing her arms, she sent a challenging glare through the darkness. "Don't play coy with us, witch. We came to you for help, but we can also have you arrested."

The frigid grip that she wrapped around each of their wrists then caused a most haunting chill to crawl up each of their spines.

"_The wolf princes_," the witch growled, "a day's travel to the West. They will be expecting you now. The path will show itself."

Shoving the two girls to the ground, she stood and yanked her knife from the stable, catching the two dead bats with one hand.

Shaking, Shousha stood, offering her hand to her sister.

"What do you require for payment for this information?" she asked timidly, reaching into her traveling cloak for the pouch of gold she had brought with her.

Not turning to face them, the witch squeezed one of the flying mammals, watching with little expression as blood squirted out in a steady stream downwards and into a feeding trough.

"Payment to me is not necessary. It is doubtful you will have anything left after the princes are through with you."

xxxx

Saitou Hajime sat at the desk in his study, reviewing the week's ledger. It was habit. Nothing ever changed, nothing ever would, but he was not the type of man who could just sit and do nothing. He needed to attend to tasks, no matter how menial they were. He needed to do _something_ with purpose.

Running a hand over the soft leather of a mask that covered the left half of his face, he continued to copy the numbers from last week's column into this week's.

Movement in the corner of the study halted this process. Lifting his head from his work, his golden eyes fell on his younger brother, Okita Soushi, seated in a leather armchair, reading a book. His black hair was pulled, just as Saitou's was, into a small tail at the nape of his neck, secured with a black ribbon. Yet another one of life's unchanging features.

Okita always joined Saitou in his study when there was work to be done. Okita himself didn't bother with numbers. It wasn't that he hadn't a gift for them (there wasn't much he _didn't_ have a gift for), they just bored him. He much preferred written work, particularly fiction, where he could dive into someone else's world and for a time, be a part of it.

This was all very normal for the two brothers and typically, Saitou was able to get all of his work done undisturbed. There were sometimes, such as today, where Okita would pause, lift his gloved hand to the leather patch covering his right eye, concentrate for a moment, and then resume his reading.

"What is it saying?"

Okita looked up. He knew it was only a matter of time before his brother questioned him.

"There are girls coming," he replied cheerfully, "two girls."

Saitou raised a brow, but remained otherwise unimpressed. "It has been some time since we have been graced by females. What does their blood look like?"

Okita thought for a moment, focusing all of his attention on the vision that his patched eye gave him.

"Royal," he replied finally, "two princesses. One of them is royalty by birth and the other is difficult to read."

Difficult to read meant dirty. Saitou didn't like dirty.

"You know, Haji," Okita began, throwing his booted feet up onto the arm of the chair he was sitting in, "you should let me play with them this time."

"And why would I do that?" he murmured, returning to his work.

Okita sighed, smiling as he admired the leather of his black gloves, and the way the white lace of the sleeve that poked out from his jacket contrasted against it.

"Because you always get to meet them first. Girls like me. I think they'd respond much better to our conditions if I were to propose them."

Slamming the ledger closed, Saitou stood, palms landing forcefully on the wood of the desktop.

"You know very well why I have to deal with the wretches."

Leaning back in the chair and grinning back at his brother, Okita let out a small whine. "Yeah I know but-"

"If a woman can not see _me_ as a human being," Saitou interrupted sharply, his wolfish oculars bearing into the one round boyish brown one that his brother sported, "then what hope is there for you?"

Without another word, he swept from the room, leaving his brother alone with his fairy tales.

xxxx

**Author's Notes: **Awwwww yeah. Fricka Fricka fairy tale. I don't have this _totally_ fleshed out yet, but I will be doing something that is totally new, and pretty weird (for readers of my other ish) so bear with me on this one here.


	2. Striking a Bargain

**Author's Note: **I guess I'm having a "screw the rotation" sort of month. Eh, it happens. Writers block in _The Arrangemen_t_t. _Poo.

I am also taking the use of AU worlds and totally running with it in this fic. I love not having to rely on science or history! Wahoo!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

**II**

_Once upon a time there were two princes_.

Tokio and Shousha hovered in the doorway of their father's bedchamber. Servants milled about, keeping a watchful eye on their king and changing his dressings with mournful faces. They didn't have much time.

There was no reason for him to die. He had just celebrated his fortieth year. He was too young.

Sitting on the edges of his bed, both girls held one of his frail hands in theirs. Though they did their best to hide it, they were trembling. It was frightening seeing him this weak, this close to death. He had always been their rock, the strength of the family. He held them both on his shoulders and let him dance on the tops of his boots.

"Father," Tokio spoke first. "we, Shousha and I, have devised a plan."

_They were handsome men, noble and strong._

Slowly, he opened his eyes, breathing heavily as he focused his vision on his daughters. "Oh my girls," he breathed, but Shousha put her fingers to his lips, shaking her head.

"Please don't speak," she begged, "you must rest until you are cured."

"No use," he responded weakly.

Tokio squeezed his hand. "Please do not be alarmed, but we are leaving. We are traveling to the west where we will find help."

_But they sought out the one thing man cannot have._

"There is a castle there," Shousha explained, biting back tears as the king fought against a coughing spell. Too much for his body to take, he lay back on his pillow, eyes drifting shut.

"There are two princes there," Tokio said hopefully, "and we've been told they can help us."

The two girls looked to each other and swallowed hard, unsure of how he would reach to their next admission. With a deep breath, they whispered in unison.

"The Wolf Princes."

_And for their sins, they were punished._

Using what little strength he had, Kojuro pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"_No._" he said forcefully, though it came out much more like a wheeze.

"We have to, father," Shousha pleaded. "we _have _to save you."

"_No_," he said again, turning to her and raising a hand to her cheek. "Do not worry for me. Marry Katsura tonight and save the kingdom."

But she shook her head, lowering his hand.

"It's more than that," Tokio said, "you are our father and it is your wife that has murdered you. We can not sit idle while she gloats on her throne! You are too young to die and we will not have it!"

"My girls," he whimpered, laying down again, "you can not give yourselves to the wolf princes. You can not."

_Feared among men, the princes lived in solitude._

_ "_We will be fine," Shousha assured him, "once you are cured, we will come home and everything will be right. I will marry Kogoro and we will celebrate for weeks."

"You don't understand," he whispered, "the hearts of wolves know no mercy."

Tokio swallowed. She had heard the tale in passing. It was a child's story; she had never imagined they could have existed.

_Their curses were their blessings, powers of divine origin._

Shousha slid off the bed. "You are in no position to reject our help. We leave tonight, and we will return tomorrow evening."

"You'll be up and walking within the week," Tokio said with a smile.

_For one gave life,_

"No matter what," Shousha added.

_And the other took life away._

Not waiting for him to protest any further, the sisters stole from his bedchamber and, donning their traveling clothes, returned to the blackness of the night.

The journey was long, but not overly difficult. At dawn and noon they ate, and for brief periods of time, took turns sleeping on their mounts as they galloped through the countryside. No one had been allowed to accompany them, for it was only the two women who were expected to arrive.

The witch had been right. Before long, they found themselves on a path unfamiliar to them and soon, tired and hungry, they arrived at the castle. It was a beautiful structure, nothing like what either of them had imagined. Built from the finest marble, it beckoned them, and white, pink, and yellow roses that climbed up its walls almost seemed to sprinkle their scent in their direction as if to seduce them.

"It's beautiful," Tokio breathed, looking up at the towers and shielding her eyes from the setting sun, "I can't believe this has gone unnoticed for so long."

Shousha looked around, tethering her steed to a post at the entryway. "It could be bewitched," she said, "if it is true that only those the princes are expecting can find it, that isn't an unrealistic notion."

"I suppose not," her sister agreed, sticking a rogue curl back into the arrangement atop her head.

Nerves naively subdued by the beauty of the castle, the two princesses wandered through the opened gate and up the sweeping staircase to the entrance. Both raised a dainty fist to knock, but before either of their knuckles could touch the great oak of the door, it swung open lazily.

"The princess Shousha, and Takagi Tokio?"

Startled, they both jumped. Before them stood the largest canine they had ever seen. A wolf in the flesh; there was no mistaking it. His giant head came up to both of their rib cages, and when his muzzle pointed in their direction, they noticed not two golden wolf's eyes, but two shimmering black glass ones.

He was blind.

"Are you one of the wolf princes?" Tokio asked, taking a small step back.

Irritated, the wolf let out a dissatisfied snort. "Do not insult me so, Miss Takagi. I am guardian above those wretched boys." Turning, he nodded his head in invitation. "Come, the princes are waiting for you."

Lifting up their skirts, the girls stepped into the grand hall of the castle, following after the giant grey beast. Maids and footmen scurried about, tending to their evening chores, but each person they passed stopped in their tracks to get a good look at the females wandering the halls of their home.

The interior of the grand structure was just as elaborate as the exterior. The further they walked into the depths, the more their fears began to melt away. Legends had a way of exaggerating themselves, after all.

"What is your name, sir guardian?" Shousha asked, lengthening her stride to come up beside him. She desperately wanted to touch his fur, but the glimpse she had seen of his fangs was enough to keep her at bay.

"I have many names," he replied simply, "but you may call me Zhan."

Turn after turn, staircase after staircase they climbed until finally stopping before a large door with vines meticulously carved into the woodwork.

Tokio looked over at her sister, smiling with relief. "This is it," she whispered excitedly, "father is going to be well again."

"The princess may enter," Zhan said, lowering himself into a sitting position and wrapping his large tail around his front paws.

"Which one of us?" Shousha asked.

The wolf stared her down, not seeing, and not blinking. "You are the princess," he told her sharply. "Your sister is a peasant girl who got lucky."

Stung, Tokio stepped back. "My father is king!" she cried, "Who are you to say what I am or am not?"

"Your blood is dirty," he replied, "Hajime will not admit you."

Steeling her jaw, Shousha looked up at the door that reached as high as the ceiling that never seemed to end. "Will Tokio be safe without me?"

"Yes. I will personally ensure that no harm comes to her."

Tokio gave her an encouraging smile and with a deep breath, she pushed open the door.

The study that she entered was typical of a man's room. Dark woods and golden fixtures accompanied walls of bookshelves and deep coloured rugs. There were leather armchairs placed just so, meant for a man's relaxation. A decanter of what looked to be brandy was set on the sideboard and a humidor sat next to it. A chess board with a half finished game stood upright between two of the chairs and Shousha had only a moment to wish she had any skill for the game before her eyes fell on the prince himself.

He was a terrifying looking man, and before he even had the chance to lift his gaze to her, she dropped into the lowest curtsey she had ever managed without falling over.

"Your highness," she breathed, her confidence shattering as she felt his vicious golden eyes on the top of her bowed head.

"Princess Shousha of the Yamata clan." It wasn't a question. It was an affirmation.

"That is correct, your highness."

"Raise your head."

She did.

"Stand."

His disapproving gaze did little to soothe her anxiety. With sharp features and broad shoulders, he was clearly a man who held authority, an authority it was unlikely that anyone defied. The half mask covering the left side of his face sent a wave of discomfort through her bones. These princes were cursed. Cursed with what, she wondered.

"Remove your cloak."

Hands shaking, she reached up to untie the knot and allowed the fabric to crumple to the floor. Left in her visiting gown, a brilliant creation of gold and cream, with several pickups accented by diamonds and rubies, she suddenly felt naked, as if his intense gaze could see through the many layers of clothing that she wore.

Ignoring her for a moment, Saitou put a cigarette to his lips, lit it, and stared into the floor length window beside the desk he was seated at.

"What is your request?"

Shousha took a calming breath. Her father's life, and possibly Tokio's, was entirely in her hands now.

"My father, the king, has been poisoned. It is my deepest wish that he is cured."

Hands resting on the solid wood, Saitou steepled his fingers, allowing the smoke from his cigarette to curl upwards.

"What do you offer?" he asked, surveying her every movement, from the uneasy fidgeting of her hands, to the way she swallowed constantly, no doubt trying to shut down her fear.

"What do you want?" she questioned in return.

"Do not answer my question with another inquiry," he snapped, "I have no desire to play games with you."

"I'm sorry," she said, lowering her eyes to the floor, "But I will give you anything you desire. Anything I possess will be yours, only say the word and I will make it so."

Saitou sat back in his chair. "Many have come to me claiming the very same, but each one has reneged on their promise. Do you know why that is, princess?"

"I don't," she replied truthfully.

Never taking his eyes from her, he stood, coming around the desk.

"When a woman says she will give anything, she does not mean it. No matter how desperate she may seem when she enters this chamber, there is one thing she is unwilling to submit."

He stopped before her, leaning forward and taking a drag from the cigarette.

"And what might that be, your highness?" she asked, unable to keep the shaking from her voice. He was far too close to her and her toes curled in her tiny white boots, preparing for him to turn into a beast right before her eyes and gobble her up.

He turned away, blowing the smoke out into the air, then looked at her, a horrifyingly wolfish smile creeping across his half face.

"_Herself._"

Shousha's breath hitched as the image of Katsura flashed across her mind. Tears stung her eyes as her heart began to pound.

"You-you want _me?"_

_ "_Most any woman would do," he replied, walking away from her, "Step forward and let me look at you."

She did as he commanded, taking a few steps to stand exactly in the middle of the room, allowing him to circle her and make his assessment.

"You are not beautiful," he began, "so you will have to work hard to become so."

"With all due respect, your highness," she interjected, "my people find me to be very attractive."

To this, Saitou raised a brow. "Do you lead a kingdom of blind men?"

"No," Shousha said defensively.

"Your skin is too dark for a princess," he went on, "you look far more like a farmer's daughter. You are short, your breasts are inadequate, and yours ears are too large. At least you have all of your teeth. I suppose I will be thankful for that."

Fists clenched at her side, Shousha didn't trust herself to move. He continued to break down her very being, listing off all the reasons that she was not an acceptable human being, as if she was breaking his laws by not being just as he wanted her.

Unable to bear any more of his scrutiny, she lifted her head, sniffling back the tears that blurred her vision.

"I am not perfect!" she shouted, "and you can not expect me to be! I will give myself to you. I will do as you say, but please. _Please _stop wasting time by demeaning me, and help me save my father!"

Saitou lifted his head, placing down the decanter he had raised in order to pour himself a glass of brandy. His back was to her, and he could hear her heavy breathing. She was going to get hysterical; he could feel it.

"Swear to me," he said quietly. "Swear to me you are mine."

"I swear it," she responded, just as low, "Do with me what you will."

Rising to his full height, Saitou looked into the mirror again, and without a word, removed his mask.

"Look at me, princess," he said icily, "Look me in the eye and give me your word."

Barely fighting the wracking sobs threatening to consume her, Shousha slowly lifted her large, dark eyes to his narrow and dangerous ones.

What she saw sent her reeling backwards, hands clamped over her mouth and boots tripping herself into an armchair. The scream that pierced the air wasn't acknowledged by the prince at all, accustomed to such reactions.

As he advanced on her, Shousha scooted back, heart pounding. It was horrible. Four deep gashes, one could assume to be claw marks, replaced what had been the majority of the skin on his left side, the longest running over both top and bottom eye lids. A sickly pink scar did its best to cover each wound, but the color did not match the strong tan of his natural flesh and instead, clashed violently. The smallest of the four began at the corner of his mouth, sliding down to his jawline, creating an unattractive extension of his already permanent frown.

"Does this frighten you, princess?" he asked, a spark of amusement flickering in his eyes as the good half of his face lit up in sardonic humor.

"N-no," she stammered. It was a lie and he knew it.

"Stand up," he ordered, watching as she did so. She was brave, he would give her that. At this point, all the other chits that had come begging him for help had either ran screaming from the study or promptly fainted before him.

All of these useless creatures had been adequately disposed of.

With his mask between his fingers, he stood just a few feet from her. Close enough to intimidate, but far enough away to show he meant no immediate harm.

"This is your fate, princess. If I agree to heal your father, you will belong to me. For one year you will live in this castle, proving your worth. If at the end of the year I deem you worthy, you will be my bride and through the union, become immortal, as I am."

Shousha's chest rose and fell rapidly. Could she do it? Could she stand to look at him, to let him beat her down? To stay with him?

Forever.

Her thoughts fell once again on her intended, Lord Katsura Kogoro, a man who never raised his voice or looked upon her unkindly. He listened to her, respected her, and supported her in everything she did.

He loved her.

But this wasn't about her. This was about Kojuro, the king. Her father. Tokio's father. For his sake and his alone, she would sacrifice herself.

"I will," she replied, her voice empty. "I will do as you say."

"One year," he reminded her, "twelve phases of the moon, four seasons. I will judge you at the end of that time."

Shousha nodded, her body suddenly very heavy. "And if you do not find me to be an appropriate bride?"

Donning his mask, Saitou showed little expression. "I will cut out your tongue and send you away."

He strode past her shaking form then, looking back into the mirror once more.

"Change your clothes, princess. It is time for supper."

When the door shut behind him and Shousha was left alone, she allowed her bottom lip to tremble, and for her shaking knees to give way.

"B-but I don't have any other clothes!" she wailed to the empty room, burying her face in her palms as she was reduced to nothing more than a weak, sobbing mess on the center carpet.

Her lungs burned, her eyes grew puffy, and catching her breath was damn near impossible in between the convulsions and the hiccups, but she couldn't help it. No matter how glad she was to have found a way to save her father and best her mother, the images of Saitou's distorted face against Katsura's perfect one kept surfacing themselves and she wept for what she had given up, and what she had given _herself_ up to.

In a small room, behind the giant mirror, sat Okita, watching the entire display.

He always sat there when they had guests. At a table for one, with a glass of red wine, he would watch his brother interrogate the females that were so brave as to venture into the castle, hoping that one of them would agree to the steep conditions. As Saitou gave his explanations and scathing remarks, Okita would watch the girls, letting the patched eye bring forth its judgement.

He hadn't used his eye on Shousha yet, having been far more interested in her determination to save the ailing king. It had been an entertaining sight; no one had ever stood their ground so long before the first wolf prince, and no woman ever, had been able to accept his proposal.

As he watched her crumple to the ground in a mess of silk and jewels, he felt saddened for her. It wasn't fair; he knew this, but they had very little choice in the matter. For too long they had suffered. If she could make it through the year and accept Hajime as he was, then maybe, just maybe, some girl out in the world would be able to see him as human too.

Placing a hand on his patched eye, Okita stood, concentrating on the wailing princess. He needed to know what sort of woman she was, so his brother would have an advantage on gaining her affections. His eye would tell him this. It was a wonderful thing.

The image that brought itself forth, however, was horrifying. Flashes of white, strangled cries, and splashes of blood assaulted his eye and ears, and his equilibrium left him.

Letting out a startled cry, Okita stepped back, grasping for footing, but knocked over the chair he had been sitting in. Gripping the table, he fell, his body weak from the image, and that too, crashed to the floor.

Hearing the noise, Shousha froze, eyes wide.

"Wh-who's there?"

Unsure of how to respond, Okita stared ahead through the glass, thankful that she couldn't see him in his current state of disarray. Never in his entire time of possessing that eye, had he ever encountered such a vision.

"Please don't cry, princess," he said gently, heart slowing to its normal pace as he watched her look frantically for the owner of the voice, "It saddens me to see a woman's tears."

"Who are you?" she demanded, pulling out a hankie and dabbing at her nose with it, "what do you want?"

"I am a prince," he responded, standing, and pulling off his black gloves.

Shousha also rose from her spot on the floor, walking carefully in the direction of the mirror, following his soft voice. From inside his secret box, Okita traced the outline of her body with his index finger.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, smiling at her when she turned to him, though she saw only herself in the reflection, "I don't want to hurt anybody."

"Are you always kept away?" she asked.

He shook his head, "No, just today."

She let out a small _oh_, then looked down to the floor. Could he see her?

"He's wrong you know," he told her with a soft smile, "my brother. You are very beautiful."

Surprised, she looked up sharply, staring at her own features. She was short, just like her sister, and though her body may have been boyish, current fashion of corsets and crinolines was kind enough to work around that detail and give the illusion of womanly curves.

"I should go," she told him quietly, "he is expecting me."

Okita smiled, pulling the black leather over his fingers once again. "Yes. Please have your sister join us as well."

Not knowing how to properly bid the unseen prince farewell and not wanting to be found curtseying to herself, Shousha turned and hurried from the room.

When she entered the dining room, Tokio was at her side. Her face had been powdered, rid of all evidence of her sorrow, and both of them had been able to make small adjustments to their coiffures, undone from the day's travel. Now on the brink of losing consciousness due to hunger, the two girls couldn't have been happier to smell the roast that sat upon the long table.

Seated at the head of the table, was Prince Hajime, patiently awaiting their arrival. To his left, Soushi, who looked at the feast hungrily, his appetite never quite satisfied, it seemed. The butler announced the arrival of the two women, and Okita looked up excitedly.

"Princess!" he cried, grinning widely.

Recognizing his voice, Shousha looked over to him, surprised at his appearance. He wasn't harsh or large like his brother, but small and boyish, eye glittering with cheer, not at all bothered by the fact that the other was covered, or that his brother had only half a face.

Saitou, however, looked upon her coldly.

"I thought I told you to change your gown."

Stunned at his choice of welcome, Shousha sputtered out a few incoherent syllables before finding her speech.

"I do not have any others, your highness," she replied.

"I don't like that one," he said in the same steely tone he had been using with her since she arrived, "Go downstairs and see the seamstress. She will have new ones made. Red might flatter you."

Tokio bristled beside her sister.

"N-now?" Shousha stammered, eyeing the food before her. It had been nearly half a day since she'd last eaten.

"Of course not, princess," Okita laughed, beckoning to the seat beside him, "please, sit by me and let's eat!"

But Saitou's glare had her rooted in her place. He had not motioned for her to sit and just having given her word to be at his service, Shousha was not about to test him.

"Were my words unclear?" he asked plainly, "I pray you are not as daft as you are ugly."

A second onslaught of tears hit her and she sniffed them back. "No sir," she said quietly, turning and heading out the way she had come.

Tokio remained, seething. Saitou gave her a once over, noting the fire in her pretty grey eyes, and smiled.

"You are pleasing to the eye," he told her, "you may stay."

"You arrogant son of a bitch," she hissed, surprising Okita, who paused in mid-reach for a roll. No one had ever spoken to Hajime that way before, least of all a stranger. Least of all a woman.

Taking the invitation, Tokio lifted the hem of her pewter skirt with her left hand, and crossed the hall quickly, with purpose, stopping by the seat at his right. Not waiting for a footman to pull out her chair, she reached for his golden chalice, and with her upper lip curled, splashed the wine in his face, slamming the goblet back down onto the table.

"You are a _monster_," she growled, turning on her heel, and storming from the room in search of her sister.

Okita sat back, laughing as his brother dabbed at his face with a napkin.

"I don't think they like you very much, Haji," he grinned, buttering his bread, "which is a shame since they're both so cute."

"We mean only one thing to women," Saitou replied, cutting the slice of roast as if nothing unusual had transpired, "and you'll do well to remember that."

Okita looked doubtful. "I don't know, they could be the ones. They might be what we've been looking for."

"What did your eye tell you?"

The small prince gave his brother a hopeless smile and a shrug. "Nothing at all," he lied.

Saitou grunted. "Do whatever you want with them then. Their usefulness will run its course."

xxxx

**Author's Note**_**: **_Ahhh, Saitou & Shousha! Totally weird, right? It's uncharted territory for me since in all the other fics they have pretty minimal communication (except maybe in _CiF_), so being able to have a fic where we really get to see how much they just... will never get along... is going to be super fun. It also serves as an awesome reminder as to how totally bombass Tokio is for ever having put up with a guy like him.

And mostly because having everybody miserable from the get-go makes me a happy camper. :D


	3. Healing a King

**Author's Note: **If my characterization of Zhan or my patchwork wolf lore ever hints at _Wolf's Rain, _it's because that is my absolute favourite anime series, so yeah. I might have been a wee bit inspired.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

**III**

When Shousha left the dining hall and pressed herself up against the wall, Zhan was waiting for her. He sat before her for a moment, allowing her to gather her thoughts before he padded over to her.

"I'll take you to the seamstress," he told her, turning and crouching low, inviting her to climb on.

With a sniff, she looked at him curiously, "you want me to ride?"

"Unless you'd prefer to walk, highness," he said.

Tokio came fuming from the room then and with a relieved sort of sigh, pulled her sister into an embrace.

"Take it back," she begged, "we'll find another way to save Papa. I can't bear to see that man torment you so."

Shousha pulled away and, throwing one leg over Zhan's back, bit her lip. "There _is_ no other way, Tokio."

They began to walk, and Tokio crossed her arms, hurrying after the giant blind canine who hadn't even had the decency to bid her a 'good evening'.

"I just don't understand why you have to marry _him_," she pouted, wrinkling her nose in disgust, "he is an absolute boor. He is rude, arrogant, and might I say quite harsh on the eyes."

"You haven't seen the rest of his face," mumbled Shousha as she slumped her shoulders.

Zhan stopped, turning his massive head towards Tokio and stared at her with his lifeless eyes.

"You should be grateful it was Hajime that chose your sister."

"Grateful? _Grateful!" _Tokio's frantic screeching caused Zhan to wince unappreciatively. "I should be _grateful_ that my sister has to endure this sort of treatment? Should I be on my knees, kissing his feet? Oh thank the heavens! Finally someone-"

She was cut off by a snarl, a vicious gnashing of teeth, as Zhan drew his snout up to her face, threatening her. Shousha let out a yelp at this sudden movement, gripping the fur on his neck to keep from falling.

"Hajime may be cold and ill tempered," he hissed, "but it is _Soushi_ who is the most dangerous."

Tokio set her jaw, but offered nothing else to the wolf. Shousha began to cry again, quietly, hiding her face in Zhan's fluffy grey coat.

"I'm-m s-sor-sorry," she sputtered, emitting a few squeaks as she tried to hold back her sobs.

His muscles relaxed then and he continued on, large claws clicking against the marble tiles that made up the floors in the halls of the castle.

"You have sacrificed many things tonight, princess. If you wish to shed tears, I will welcome them."

Tokio disagreed, but didn't voice her opinion. _She_ didn't see how the horrible prince was the better option when his cheery and friendly brother had _invited_ Shousha to sit by him in a rather encouraging manner.

When Shousha finally managed to calm herself, she sat upright, her hands using Zhan's shoulders as support. He liked her, she could tell, and she was thankful for this. Being at the mercy of a cruel man was one thing. Offending a beast with the ability to swallow her whole was something else entirely.

"Why is Soushi so dangerous?" she asked him, thinking back to the conversation he had with her earlier, in Hajime's study. He didn't want hurt her. But would he?

Zhan took a sharp corner. "His curse robbed him of that which he had loved the most," he replied.

Tokio frowned at the vague answer. "Which was...?"

"Women," the wolf replied, "Hajime's pride was his regally commanding features, and Soushi, his ability to love any female that crossed his path."

"But love is such a wonderful thing," Sousha protested.

Tokio cleared her throat, "I do believe he means love of the _physical_ variety, Shousha."

Color rose up in her cheeks and she turned away, embarrassed. "Oh, of course."

Zhan nodded. "He had a gift. Many, as I've learned, but in his mortal days, he was able to ease a girl into his bed with little more than a smile, or so I'm told. There was hardly a lady in the kingdom that hadn't been graced by his touch."

At the naughty tale, Tokio's face lit up. "I'll be that made for some unhappy papas," she snorted, giggling.

"And husbands," added the wolf.

Shousha gasped, "He didn't!"

"A prince will always do whatever it is a prince wants to do."

Tokio stopped laughing, bringing her arms up over her chest. "Then he means to.."

If a wolf could smirk, this one did. "Have you not been listening, Miss Takagi? Soushi is a cursed man. He can not lay hands on a woman any longer."

She swallowed. "But why?"

Shousha bit her lip again, "Because they tried to cheat death."

"In a sense," came Zhan's response, impressed that she had at least heard the bedtime version of the princes' tale. "Are you aware of how one becomes immortal, my dears?"

Both of the girls shook their heads.

"We wolves are a sacred race and in our day, we were the guardians of the forests. We cared for its creatures and plants, and protected its purity. It was our job, above all, to keep the balance between life and death."

"Is that why you can not die?" asked Tokio.

"Humans view immortality in a difference sense than we do," he admitted, "humans believe that evading death defines immortality, but I assure you this is not the case. We are impervious to illness and heal from most injuries rather quickly, but we can, and will, die.

"Your two princes are much smarter than their subjects. They always have been, and I believe they will continue to be as the years progress. They knew the true meaning of what it meant to sacrifice their mortal soul, and so they sought us out."

Shousha inhaled slowly, "Immortality is not achieved," she said slowly, staring straight ahead, "it is stolen. Isn't it?"

"You're a clever girl," Zhan credited her, "We wolves were blessed with the gift, and we alone possessed it. In order for a human to acquire it, he must defeat one of us."

Tokio furrowed her brow, "But even if they _are_ more intelligent than most men, how did they possess the knowledge of how to kill a wolf? I doubt the scholars have ever recorded such instructions."

"Every single one of us is different," he told her, "wolves and humans alike. Though we appear indestructible, our downfall can be achieved in our weakest moments. Because no two are the same, this is different for each of us."

The two girls remained silent, Shousha gripping his fur intently, waiting for the next nugget of this tale, and Tokio, hands still crossed over her chest, unblinking.

"Hajime is a quick and efficient sort of man," said Zhan. His voice had lowered considerably, and his tone was taking on a nostalgic, pained air, "he took the life of a pup."

Shousha's eyes began to water as she imagined a fluffy wolf puppy being slashed to pieces by her new intended. Then, Zhan stopped.

"The pup had no name," he whispered, "he hadn't opened his eyes, hadn't even been licked clean from the birth."

"Were you there?" Tokio asked, coming up to him and lifting her hand over his back. She lowered it carefully, before her fingers felt the brush of his fur, and she rested there, a silent comforter.

"I was young," said the wolf, "we all were. Enraged, I attacked the prince. I had assumed him a coward, picking off a creature during its first minute of life, but I underestimated him. We fought a proper fight, a good fight. When we parted, he had stolen from me an eye, and I had robbed him of his face."

"And Soushi?"

Zhan bristled. "I should have never attacked Hajime," he told them, voice drenched in regret, "I should have accepted the loss and killed his brother."

Tokio's hands were caressing his back now, and as strong as she was, she wanted to weep for this creature.

"They had planned it, I know. Hajime had only murdered the pup-" he paused, "_my_ pup to distract me while his brother-"

"No!"

Shousha buried her face into his neck, sobbing again.

"No!" she cried again, "he didn't. Tell me he didn't!"

"I loved her," he said, resisting the urge to lay in the hall with his tail curled around his body, lost in memory.

Tokio's mind flashed to the image of the younger prince, seated at the table, all smiles and cheer. Suddenly his grin felt more menacing, and his light words of encouragement, a dangerous, deadly trap.

He had killed a wolf to gain immortality. He had killed a mother while she was giving birth. He had killed her right before her mate's eyes.

"The truth is," Zhan began, "that moment was _my_ weakest. When her blood coated that mountain top, and the light from her eyes dulled, I wanted nothing more than for them to take me too. But then... Soushi did something I hadn't expected."

Tokio stopped patting him for a moment. "What did he do?"

The wolf looked back to her. "He birthed the other two pups."

Shousha raised her head, "What?"

"Down on his knees, he reached inside of her, and pulled the rest of the litter into the world. He cleaned them, and tucked them away into a basket lined with fur."

"Why would he do that?" Tokio questioned, "why would he kill her and save the babies?"

Zhan sighed, "Because as much as I loathe him, he is not a cruel man. His intention, I later learned, was simply to extend his life in order to continue to serve his people, and better his kingdom."

Tokio scoffed. "That doesn't appear to have worked out very well."

Shousha leaned forward, "What about the curse?"

"When the battle was through, I vowed to give these princes exactly what they wanted. They had their immunity, but I would give them more.

"I bestowed upon Hajime the eyes of my murdered son, eyes of purity that had never been witness to evil. It is in his eyes that he possesses the power to give life, to heal what has been touched by darkness and sin."

"So they weren't always gold?" Tokio wondered aloud.

"No," he replied, "before our altercation they were brown, quite ordinary, and very _human_. He was a rather handsome prince, but it was the price he paid for everlasting life and divine powers.

"To Soushi I gifted the eye that had not been damaged in my fight with his brother. You'll notice he hides it. It gives him the gift of clairvoyance when he needs it, something I had once prided myself in. I also gave him another gift. The gift to control death, to unleash it."

Shousha slid from his back as he stopped before two giant red doors.

"It wasn't meant to be a gift, was it, Zhan?" she asked, her voice an accusing whisper. "You cursed him.."

"They wanted to be like us, so I granted their wish."

"You _made_ him a killer!"

"The prince killed my love," he snapped, gnashing his fangs, "so I took it upon myself to ensure that Okita Soushi would never again feel the touch of a woman. He will _never_ know love."

She shook her head, lips turned down in disgust. "You're a beast," she breathed, taking her sister's hand.

Zhan turned to leave. They had arrived at the seamstress. "The three of us are all beasts," he replied, "one of us just hides it better."

He walked away, leaving the two princesses alone in the dark hall. Looking to each other, they squeezed each other's hands, and pushed open the doors.

A frizzy haired middle aged woman was standing, inserting pins into a half finished gown on a dress form, and when she saw the two young woman enter her chamber, she nearly swooned.

"Oh my Lord!" she cried, throwing her hands up, "so the rumors are true!"

Shousha shifted uncomfortably, "His highness sent me up for a new-"

"Oh of course! Of course!" she cheered, ushering both of the girls up onto elevated disks in the middle of the chamber. "Hiroto, look here! There are girls in the castle!"

A small, teenage girl with brilliant green eyes and pin straight brown hair poked her head out from behind a curtain, "Girls?"

Then, seeing the two before her, Hiroto burst from the curtain, making quick work of gathering measuring tapes, pins, and reams of fabric. Soon the two women were bustling about, draping lace, showing off beads and jewels, and chattering excitedly with each other. It was a whirlwind of activity and Shousha and Tokio could hardly keep their thoughts straight.

"Oh you will love absolutely _ravishing _in red!" the older woman exclaimed to Shousha, holding up a bolt of cherry silk.

"Oh," said Hiroto, looking a bit crestfallen as she lowered some lace from Tokio's collarbone, "but Prince Sou just _adores _blue."

"Nonsense," the woman said, giving her a dismissive wave, "if he loves it so much he may don himself in it. We are here to dress the _ladies_."

It was then that Shousha cleared her throat. "I'm not trying to win the affections of the younger prince," she told them.

The seamstress, and her excited apprentice froze.

"I made an arrangement with his highness, Prince Hajime."

Hiroto's shoulders dropped. "Red then. Most definitely red."

There was a knock at the door and with the women's permission, a footman entered carrying a large golden tray.

"Begging your pardon, your highness," he said, "but the prince thought you and your sister might be hungry. He sends his apologies for his brother's-" the footman cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable repeating the words- "unsightly behavior at the dinner table."

The seamstress took the tray with thanks and set it before the princesses. Shousha's mouth watered and Tokio began to inch off the platform towards the food.

"It's been too long since those boys have been around girls," the woman sighed, flipping through plates to search for designs that would suit each of the princesses, "the poor dears."

Seated in velvet chairs, the sisters began to devour their dinner with little regard for the company around them. Tokio swallowed her vegetables, wincing and wishing perhaps she had chewed a bit more.

"You pity them?" she asked, "even after what they did?"

"Oh darling," she said, pulling forth another dress form, "you can not blame them. Doesn't every young man wish for power and immortality? They're paying a heavy price for a mistake they made over three hundred years ago and it doesn't sit well with me at all."

"They aren't so bad," Hiroto chimed in, "Hajime is stern, but he does smile sometimes, and Prince Sou is.. he's so nice."

"What do they want?" Shousha wondered, setting down her fork and reaching for her crystal water glass, "why is Hajime's deal so important to him?"

The seamstress removed a pin from her mouth and looked at her with kind and understanding eyes. "Acceptance, your highness. That is all they seek now. To be considered human in the eyes of an equal."

xxxx

"I'll be leaving."

Okita looked up to his brother with a grin, "Will you be back soon?"

Saitou sheathed his rapier. "I'm taking Zhan. I'll be back before morning."

Okita nodded, and returned to the pages of his book, but when his brother crossed the room and pulled open the door, he called out.

"You should return with a gift, Haji. Girls like gifts."

Saitou stared at him for a moment, then blinked, and tilted his chin in acknowledgement. The King Takagi had been poisoned by his wife, Shousha's mother. Certainly he could use that to his advantage in wooing the weepy princess.

The journey to her kingdom was quick and without interruption. Atop Zhan's back, Saitou was able to travel at a speed unfathomable by his human counterparts. When the guards at the gate saw the giant beast, they fell to their knees, trembling.

Saitou swept the halls of the castle on foot with Zhan padding quietly beside him. He didn't snarl or bare his teeth; he didn't have to. Wolves had been reduced to nothing more than a legend, a myth. To see one wandering about in the flesh sent ripples of fear though the entire structure.

Only one man stood strong.

"You there!"

Saitou stopped his march, remaining perfectly still before the corner of his mouth tilted upwards and he turned.

Katsura lowered his voice, "Wolf prince."

The wolf prince grinned a feline grin, sizing up the man before him. He was of good build, muscled, and if the calm in his eyes contrasting the command in his tone was any indication of his nature, well trained in combat.

"You must be of peerage to speak to a prince in such a manner."

Under any other circumstances, Katsura would have bowed to a prince, but his spine remained rigid. He would not bend.

"My name is Katsura Kogoro," he said, "Duke of Hagi."

Saitou raised a brow, "A duke? Then you must be our princess' betrothed."

No emotion flickered through Katsura's features. "I am."

_Most excellent_. "Then you will take me to your king."

"My king is already on his deathbed. You have no business here."

A low chuckle emitted from the back of Saitou's throat. "Do not be stupid, duke. I would not waste my time murdering a dying man. You will take me to him, or your princess will spend her days in agony."

And there it was. It was small and subtle because Katsura had been trained to show emotion only when necessary. Still, there was a fleck of worry that crossed his face. His mouth twitched, as did his fingers, resisting the urge to unsheathe his rapier and cut down the man before him.

But Katsura was a gentleman. He was polished and diplomatic. Even though the wolf prince had issued a threat, he knew that he had not come to this land to wage war.

With a graceful nod, Katsura took the lead, his mahogany boots thudding through the silent corridor in time with the clicks of Zhan's claws. He entered the king's chamber wordlessly, using his hand to gesture an invitation into the room.

When Saitou and Zhan stepped inside, the maids ceased their nervous chatter and pressed their backs up against the wall. The queen was present, he noticed. She sat on the settee in black, a mirage of mourning. Saitou knew better. Her skin was not ashen and her fingertips were not trembling. There was life in her eyes. Even if the servants could not see past her downcast lids and practiced fumbling of her hands, Saitou knew the true emotion that she bore.

Satisfaction.

Standing by the king's bedside, the prince looked down at him.

"Takagi Kojuro, King of the land of Choshu, do you hear me?"

Weak and pale, with rattling breath the king nodded. "I know who you are," he whispered. His words were forced, and even with death upon them, he spat them with hate.

"I am here by request of your daughters. Open your eyes, king, and look at me."

Kojuro did, but only just. "Do not.." he begged, "please, let them be."

Saitou was not one to abide by the plea of anyone not offering him something in exchange. He was here by means of a bargain, struck with a woman who had offered herself up as a sacrifice for her father's life. He did not question her motives. He did not care.

As his golden eyes bore down into those of the father king, he saw the color rise up back in the man's cheeks, a glimmer return to his eyes, and a steadiness of his breath.

"No!" he cried, sitting up, frantically patting his body, now perfectly well, as if he had never been ill. "No!"

Saitou stepped back. "You are not appreciative of your life?"

Kojuro stood. "My life means nothing if I must give up my girls in order to live it!"

"So you know my conditions then, how interesting."

Katsura stepped forward, "Sire, what do you mean?"

Saitou faced him, placing a hand on Zhan's back. His grin was back, flickering in the candlelight. "In exchange for their father's health, the daughters have bent to my will. They belong to me, and only me, as of this moment. Our exchange is complete."

This time, Katsura did not hesitate. Pulling his sword from its scabbard, he pointed at the wolf prince. "Draw your sword, prince. I will not allow this."

Zhan stepped to the side as Saitou did as was requested of him. "Do you intend to kill me, duke?"

Katsura charged forward and their steel clashed. The prince grinned and they forced themselves apart. The battle raged in the bedchamber and the king could do nothing but watch. His queen looked away and the maids had all fled.

They were equal in skill, this wolf prince and the man he had hoped one day to call his son. But he knew what Katsura would soon discover.

The duke's blade slid through the stomach of the prince and when he pulled it out, it was dripping blood, but none stained Saitou's waistcoat. The prince did not stagger and he did not fall. Instead, he smiled.

"I ask you again, Katsura Kogoro: do you intend to kill me?"

Surprised, Katsura paused for a fraction of a second. It was all Saitou needed to knock the man's rapier from his hand. With his ever placid demeanor, the duke relaxed his stance.

"This is impossible."

"No, not impossible," said the prince, "just uncommon."

Katsura stood down. He was a smart man and he knew when he could not win. Tomorrow he would gather the army and begin a search party for his beloved and her sister. Tonight, he would watch the tail of the giant grey wolf as it strode away with a prince upon its back.

"I ask one thing of you then, Prince."

Saitou snorted. "I rarely ever acquiesce to the requests of men. You have nothing to offer me."

"Do not harm them," Katsura ordered quickly, "They are good women and have suffered enough."

He considered this momentarily before dismissing it. "I will keep them alive," he agreed, "until they are of no further use to me."

Kojuro was shaking against his bedpost, the thought of his daughters at the mercy of this brute rooting him in the spot, swelling his tongue, and rendering him speechless. Paternal anguish coursed through his veins and as he collapsed to the floor, his sobs echoed throughout the entire chamber.

Saitou moved away, taking a few steps towards the exit. The king's sorrow did not pierce him, and neither did the duke's disapproving stare as he watched the prince's every move, calculating him, searching for weakness. Just as he was about to cross the threshold, however, he stopped, putting a finger to his temple and laughing.

"Oh yes," he chuckled lowly, turning, and locking his gaze with that of the queen.

"I am supposed to bring back a gift."

xxxx

**Author's Note:** I've never allowed Okita to play the part of a careless philanderer, so I thought it might be fun to add that to his past in this whacked out story.

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